“Recruit Sisera reporting for recruit equipment,” he announced as he set the bundle on a thick board suspended between two barrels.
“Your merda is touching my counter, cūlus,” a man growled. He was standing deep in the shadows between shelves of Gladii and shields, “Who said you could use my space recruit?”
“My apologies, sir,” Alerio replied as he hurriedly lifted the bundle, “Recruit Sisera reporting for recruit equipment.”
“I heard you the first time,” the Legionary said. He plucked items from shelves as he walked towards Alerio.
A large wicker shield was placed on the bundle along with three javelins. A heavy wooden practice sword was thrust into one hand and a dull metal knife into the other.
“Name?” asked the man.
“Recruit Alerio Sisera,” Alerio answered.
“You are responsible for the equipment. Every item. Lose any item and you will be charged. Break an item and you will be charged a replacement fee,” the man announced. “Now get out of my armory.”
There was no way Alerio could navigate the doorway with all the equipment. Hesitantly, he squatted and placed the bundle and equipment on the floor near the door. After checking to see if the Legionary would complain about the placement of his gear, Alerio carried the shield, javelins and sword through the doorway, the forge building and out to the street. He set the items down and rushed back to retrieve the bundle.
It was difficult, but he managed to balance all the gear in his arms. Standing on the street, it suddenly occurred to him. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go next.
A Lance Corporal, his chest armor oiled to a brilliant shine, his hobnailed boots polished and a buffed helmet tucked under an arm came from around a tent.
“You, on me,” the NCO announced.
He spun and marched away. Alerio stumbled after him while trying to hold and balance the pile of equipment. They walked between supply tents and onto an open field. Across the field and near the earth wall sat a ten-man field tent. On the sand beside the erect tent lay seven large bundles.
As Alerio tugged through the sand, he noted sword training posts and marked off lanes for foot races. They approached the tent.
“Drop your gear and stand by your tent,” the Lance Corporal directed.
Alerio shuffled to the tent entrance and set the equipment down. He braced stiffly. The NCO stared at him for a full minute.
“That’s not your tent Recruit,” the Lance Corporal sneered. “That’s my tent. Your tent is over there.”
He was pointing towards one of the large bundles lying on the sand.
“Do you want my tent?” asked the NCO.
“No sir,” Alerio replied.
“Don’t call me Sir,” the NCO screamed. “I’m a Lance Corporal of the Legion. I’ve worked long and hard and earned the title. You, you haven’t earned anything. Now, move your gear away from my tent. Now.”
Alerio scrambled to collect his equipment. He had it balanced and began to walk away when the heavy wicker shield slipped and fell to the sand.
“Did you just lose your shield?” asked the Lance Corporal, “If you drop your shield in combat you die, people die, I die. Do you want to kill me Recruit?”
“No sir,” Alerio said as he lowered the equipment to the sand and began restacking it.
“Cur! Did you just call me cur?” the Legionary asked. “Do I look like a dog to you? Do you want to pat my head and scratch me behind my ear?”
“No, Lance Corporal,” Alerio said as he finally got the stack balanced and stood up. “I’m moving my equipment to my tent.”
Recruit Sisera stood by his pile of equipment and the bundled tent. He stood until the sun past its zenith and slowly moved towards the flat hazy horizon. The Lance Corporal had long ago disappeared into his tent.
Eventually, four Privates appeared from between the supply tents and came towards Alerio. As they approached, he expected more harassment. Instead, they greeted him.
“We’re here to teach you how to set up a tent,” one explained.
The four instructed him in unfolding the ten-man tent. They had him refold it so he learned the proper way to stow it. They even took turns pounding in the stakes for the guide ropes. Finally, the big tent was erected and the four Legionaries stepped back to admire their work.
“Good luck Recruit,” they said. Alerio watched as they crossed the field and didn’t notice the Lance Corporal emerge from his tent.
“Attention Recruit,” he barked. “Let me inspect your tent.”
The NCO circled the tent, jerking on each guide rope and thumping on the tent sides. When he arrived back in front of Alerio, he pointed to the stack of equipment.
“The javelins can be strapped to the backpack,” he said grabbing the weapons and tying them in place. He went on to explain how each piece of equipment could be layered for marching. Or strapped on for fighting. After the two-hour lecture, Alerio had a grip on how to wear his equipment.
“Are you my instructor?” Alerio asked.
“No Recruit. I’m a Lance Corporal in Headquarters Century,” he explained. “We run security for the Post and for the baggage trains going out to the forts.”
“Can I ask why the harsh words and attitude earlier?” Alerio inquired.
“It was a test,” explained the Lance Corporal. “If you had pushed back or attacked me, my Squad would have made sure you were too broken up to be a Legionary.”
“I assume I passed the test?” Alerio guessed.
“If you hadn’t, you’d be sleeping out in the open. On the sand with the spiders and scorpions,” the Lance Corporal said. “Your training class doesn’t start for four days. Instructors will be here from six Centuries to do the training. That way they can select the Recruits they want for their units.”
Chapter 28 - The Acting SOG
Alerio, as all farm boys do, was up before the sun rose. After getting a bowl of mushy corn from the mess hall, he wandered back to the empty training area. With no assignment or duties, he went to the tent and retrieved the practice gladius.
He was going through the sword drills on a post when the Lance Corporal walked up.
“For a recruit, you’re pretty good with the wooden gladius,” the NCO said. He walked by the recruit and went into the NCO tent. When he returned, he pulled his gladius and handed a second to Alerio, “Let’s see how you do against a living opponent.”
They started with basic drills then the NCO slipped in an advance move. Alerio easily blocked the strike and countered. Then, he dipped his blade and grabbed his shoulder. A trickle of blood ran down his arm.
“Oh Hades, I’ve torn the stitches,” the Recruit explained.
“I guess you’ve had enough,” the Lance Corporal said.
“No, let’s continue,” Alerio offered as he shifted the gladius to his left hand.
They ran through all the drills until both were soaked in sweat. When a horn blew, the Lane Corporal pointed towards a road heading away from the Post. Soon lines of Legionaries appeared with a wagon train following. Behind the long string of supply wagons marched several rows of Legionaries.
“That’s a lot of security,” observed Alerio.
Having grown up in a relatively tame province of the Republic, the thought of having to guard supplies didn’t occur to him. A few armed men to protect against highwaymen was all he’d ever seen. There was a Century and a half of heavy infantrymen accompanying the supplies.
Nine years ago the Legion of the Republic had forced the ruling tribes to sign treaties. While the major cities and towns were under Legion control, the surrounding area wasn’t.
“It’s necessary. The local rebels would kill to get those supplies,” the Lance Corporal explained. “Heck, they’d kill for less. But mostly, they’d kill to prevent the goods from reaching our forts. The problem is, it leaves me shorthanded for Post security. I’m acting Sergeant of the Guard tonight and I need to fill guard slots. Thanks for the workout.”
<
br /> The NCO was three steps away when Alerio called out, “Lance Corporal. I’d like to volunteer for guard duty.”
Chapter 29 - Guard Post Fifteen
Alerio shifted his shoulders. It was the first time he’d worn the recruit armor. Without time to rub in conditioning oil, the old leather was stiff and scratchy. The helmet flopped as he hadn’t had time to line it with fur for fit. And the gladius and scabbard were on loan from the Post guard command. Despite the uncomfortable armor and the cold of early morning, Alerio was proud to walk Guard Post Fifteen.
The Lance Corporal assured him it wasn’t likely to be attacked by Rebels. In the near distance, lights from the harbor town glowed and overhead a multitude of stars seemed so close, Alerio felt as if he could reach up and grab a handful. Thirty paces along the wall, wave to the other Legionary, and march back thirty paces. Wait and acknowledge the guard on the other section and repeat. The NCO had been by three times while marking the rounds as Sergeant of the Guard. On each circuit, he reported all was quiet along the walls of the Transfer Post.
Alerio counted twenty-eight, twenty-nine and thirty. He stopped and stared into the night. Apparently the guard on the other post was late in getting to the end of his route. Suddenly, a shape emerged on the earthen wall, an arm waved and the man turned and vanished into the dark.
All seemed well, except the shape was wrong, and there was no creaking of leather as the man moved. Alerio froze. If he called out and it was only his inexperience, he’d look like a fool. If he deserted his post and want to investigate, he could be tossed out of the Legion before actually becoming a Legionary.
He hesitated for a few seconds before racing along the dirt top. The man shape had vanished. Alerio slowed and bent to lower his profile. As he crept along the wall, voices in a strange sing song accent drifted on the still air. Alerio’s foot caught on something. He knelt down and felt a foot. It was a hobnailed boot attached to the body of a Legionary.
Alerio cried out, “Sergeant of the Guard, Attack! Attack!”
Guards along the wall began sounding off that the action was to their left or to their right. This allowed the SOG and four reserve Legionaries to locate the trouble spot. They raced for a spot between Guard Post Fourteen and Fifteen.
The Lance Corporal was upset but not worried. Putting a Recruit on regular guard duty was frowned upon unless you stacked them up and had an instructor nearby. Now the entire guard force, no, the entire Transfer Post, was awake and on alert.
After his second round of yelling, Alerio heard the sound of feet scraping as people climbed the wall from outside the fort. He drew his gladius.
The shapes, backlit by the lights from the city of Crotone, came level with the top of the wall. Long curved knives reflected the starlight but dark robes hid the men wielding the weapons. There was no hesitation, the four Rebels rushed silently at the Legionary Guard.
Alerio arched his gladius up and over. On the downward sweep, it chopped into the leading man’s forearm. The knife fell and Alerio kicked him over the wall and into the compound. The gladius continued to spin. In its upsweep, the blade cut into the second assailant’s elbow.
The final two separated and came at Alerio from the sides. At knife distance, Alerio dropped to a knee and reached out. His blade tip ripped a gash in a Rebel’s side. But the maneuver caused the loose helmet to rocked and it tumbled from Alerio’s head.
The other attacker planned to drive his knife into the Legionary’s ear and into his brain. One second the helmet was level with his knife and he stabbed at the ear hole. But, Alerio had leaned away to deliver the strike and lost his helmet. The Rebel’s knife extended out and carved a slice of the Recruit’s scalp.
With blood flowing into his eyes, and only partial vision, Alerio brought the gladius across his body and opened the knifeman’s gut. The man collapsed and Alerio remained on his knees.
The acting Sergeant of the Guard found one of his Legionary guards dead and another kneeling with his hands over his head. It wasn’t until later when he spoke with the Doctor, he learned how close he’d come to losing two men that night.
In minutes, the men on guard duty and all off duty Legionaries were sweeping through the compound and supply tents. Small clusters of Heavy Infantrymen guarded any exits. Four Rebels were captured and questioned. By dawn, command knew the Rebels planned to start fires, burn supplies, and kill as many Legionaries as possible before escaping.
The only other deaths that day were from the Officer of the Day’s blade. The Centurion executed the four Rebels, then went to breakfast.
Chapter 30 - The Medical Tent
Alerio was propped up on a cot. Thick bandages spotted with leaking blood were wrapped around his head. He listened as the Doctor talked with the Lance Corporal, his Corporal, and his Sergeant.
“The Legionary’s lucky he ducked when he did,” the Doctor explained. “It took thirty-five stitches to secure the scalp. Even now, it’s bleeding under the bandages. Nothing to worry about, head wounds do bleed a lot.”
“Doctor, he’s a Recruit and he didn’t duck. He was stabbed as he killed four attackers,” the Lance Corporal reported.
“He’s an extraordinary Recruit,” the Doctor observed as he collected his instruments.
“I want him,” the Sergeant said remembering the sharp salute from the Recruit. “Get him through training and claim him.”
“We don’t have an opening,” the Corporal replied. Then remembering the dead Legionary corrected himself, “Oh, I guess we do.”
“There’s no one from our Century assigned as an instructor,” the Lance Corporal said. “I’ve got a squad committed to assisting in the training but we don’t have an instructor slotted.”
“Corporal Thornernus, you’ve just been slotted as an instructor for this Recruit class,” the Sergeant ordered. “I’ll clear it with the Centurion.”
“Yes Sergeant,” the burley Corporal replied.
“I want him,” the Senior NCO said again while pointing to Alerio. “Get him through training and claim him.”
The Sergeant and Corporal walked out talking about other Century issues. As they left, the Lance Corporal strolled over to Alerio.
“Recruit Sisera. I’ve something for you,” he said pulling out a curved sheath. From the sheath he drew a long curved knife with a hilt imbedded with pearls, “As near as I can figure, it’s the one used to almost scalp you.”
“It’s beautiful, Lance Corporal,” Alerio replied as he examined the exotic weapon. “But shouldn’t you keep it? You were the Sergeant of the Guard.”
“Thankfully Corporal Thornernus doesn’t go for shiny things,” the Lance Corporal stated. “I’ve got one as does the Sergeant and the Centurion. So, this one belongs to you. The four apparently were professional assassins. They were coming in to kill Legionaries as a distraction for the Rebels charged with lighting fires. It was a good plan except for you, Recruit Sisera.”
Chapter 31 - The Training Century
Over the next three days, groups of civilians arrived and a squad from Headquarters Century escorted them through supply and taught them to erect the ten-man tents. They also instructed them in the proper way to carry their gear and how to dress for battle. Most were confused by the straps and necessity of hauling all the equipment. The squad assured them it was important.
While the recruits were settling in, five Sergeants wandered into the Transfer Post. The five were from the three Forts. With the largest garrisons, they were in constant need of fresh troops. Corporal Thornernus met with them and showed them to their quarters. Late at night on the day before training started, the sixth of the original instructors reported to the front gate.
“Halt, advance and be recognized,” the Private on the main gate challenged.
A Legionary strolled towards the circles of light cast by the braziers. Even in the low light, the guard could see the man was dirty from traveling. Yet, he walked like a panther, measured steps with a powerful roll to his shoulders
as he moved into the light.
“Sergeant Horus of the Legion Raiders,” he stated.
“Sergeant of the Guard,” the Private yelled. “Visitor at the main gate.”
Two minutes later, the SOG and four Legionaries joined the Private. It took a few seconds as the Sergeant of the Guard studied the visitor before he ordered the gate opened.
“Sergeant Horus. I thought you were dead,” the SOG said as the man approached.
“So did they, Sergeant,” Horus related. “Fortunately for me, they were wrong.”
In the morning, the last Recruit to join the civilians was a big farm boy with bandages wrapped around his head.
Chapter 32 - Recruit Training
“Good morning Recruits. I am Corporal Thornernus,” the NCO announced. “These are your training instructors. Impress them and you’ll be invited to join their unit. Disappoint the instructors and you’ll be here in training until you are dead.”
Beside the Corporal, six Sergeants stood studying the civilian recruits. They were making initial judgements, sizing up the raw recruits, and already deciding who would fit in with their Centuries. All except for one. Sergeant Horus was yawning and seemed bored.
“We’ll start with a conditioning run,” the Corporal announced. “Just to loosen everybody up. Century, attention, right face.”
Some of the seventy civilians knew to come to attention and fewer yet understood the right face command. Most stood looking lost and confused.
“Oh pardon me,” sneered a Sergeant as he stepped towards the lined up Recruits. “Please stand with you backs straight, chest out, stomach in, thumbs alone your sides, chin up and your feet at a forty-five-degree angle. Attention!”
Most of the recruits got it and popped to attention. Some still stood as if they were in the wrong place. In a sense they were.
Another Sergeant began wandering through the ranks. With a punch, a stomp and a sharp word or two, he taught the dazed to stand at attention.
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